


What U Got On?

by Otonymous



Series: Kinktober Writing Challenge [6]
Category: MLQC: Fandom, love and producer, 恋与制作人 | Liàn Yǔ Zhì Zuò Rén | Mr. Love: Queen's Choice (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crack Fic, F/M, Lingerie, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, vivid imaginations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 04:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21247178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otonymous/pseuds/Otonymous
Summary: How will Victor react to your petit cadeau?





	What U Got On?

**Author's Note:**

> My sixth entry for the 2019 Kinktober challenge! Better late than never! 😂 
> 
> As always, please note the potential trigger warnings listed in the tags above, and happy reading!

“Be a good boy and put it on.”

Silence. Then, an exasperated sigh.

“Something wrong with your ears, baby boy? I don’t hear you moving. Don’t you like your gift?”

"Ahem."

The deep sound of a throat clearing, then the crinkle of packaging being removed. A smile spreads slow across your lips as you lightly bite onto a fingertip, imagination painting a vivid scene of lasciviousness across your bedroom ceiling.

“Go on, then. Oh, but before you do, I want you to read it out loud.”

“This is absurd.” Victor’s voice hums low through the phone pressed to your ear. You fight to hold back your laughter.

“Read. It. Out.”

_Did he just swear under his breath?!_

“20% spandex, 80% polyester.”

“Is the style to your liking?”

“Leopard prints aren’t really my thing.”

“Really? With the aggressive way you conduct business, I’d think you’d have a lot in common with predatory animals.”

Another deep breath, as if drawing on the final reserves of patience to hold back from uttering the word _“idiot."_ But then again, he should’ve thought twice before agreeing that the loser in Mario Kart would have to follow the dictates of the winner. No objections, no back talk.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“What do you typically do with underwear, Mr. Li?”

“Yours? Rip them.”

Hand rising to cover your burning face, the sudden weakness in your knees made you glad to have already been lying in bed. You swallow hard to hide the tremor in your voice. “Continue with your sass if you wish for punishment. Now…put it on.”

The faintest hint of a chuckle before his phone settles onto a solid surface with a dull thud. Then, the metallic clink of a belt buckle coming undone. Zipper sliding down and fabric rustling.

“By the way, I _do_ hope you’re out of the office. What would poor Goldman say if he walked in on you like this?”

“He’d say his annual bonus isn’t necessary anymore.”

Laughing despite yourself, you quickly school your voice into a more solemn tone. “Someone’s confident. How does it feel?”

“Tight.”

“Thongs are snug, Victor. I know it’s not as comfortable as the boxer briefs you typically wear, but I thought a change might be interesting—“

“There’s not enough room in the front. Haven’t you had me in your hands and mouth enough times to know my size by now?”

“EXCUSE—“

Just when you were about to object, the thought of Victor busting out of his leopard-print thong sent your mind on a trip, and suddenly, you were throwing open the double doors to his oak-panelled study, slowly approaching the man seated in a studded leather chair before a marble fireplace, orange flames throwing enticing shadows over the sharp angles of that handsome face.

Propping your phone between shoulder and ear, your hand reaches down to lightly circle your navel before slipping past the waistband of your shorts, a shiver running along your spine as the fine hairs of your abdomen stand on end in response to your touch. “This was the only size left when I went to get chips at the convenience store.”

“You bought these _where_?”

You flinch at the incredulousness practically oozing over the line, instantly stilling your fingers where they hovered over the trim of your panties.

“Y-you know…the 24-hour convenience store a block away from my office. I didn’t get the chance to go shopping for a fancy designer pair like the ones you usually wear. Besides, aren’t you curious to know how regular underwear feels like?”

“I’d hardly call a leopard-print thong regular underwear.”

“Well…if it’s that uncomfortable, we can stop playing.”

A moment of dead air before Victor sighs again. “It’s fine. What now?”

The resignation in his voice unfurls the knot at the pit of your stomach, emboldening you to continue. “Run your hands over the fabric. Pretend it’s me.”

His breath hitches. Limbs shift.

"Okay."

Victor's reply comes on the heels of a shaky exhale, solemn and serious, like his commitment in seeing the act through.

Smiling, your hand resumes its course - index tracing lace roses that bloom warm under a dancing caress, the first drops of moisture percolating through fabric as you teased along the length of your folds, gradually swelling under a crescendo of arousal.

“Victor, if I were there now…what would you have me do?”

_Clink._

The silence in the wake of your question is broken by the muted sound of an ice cube settling against glass, and you are once more before the exacting CEO, dressed in nothing but the stockings and garter belt he loved. You approach, extending a manicured hand to remove the glass of whiskey from his grasp, straddling those muscular thighs as you drink in the sight of those discerning eyes cooly appraising you from head to toe.

Feigning innocence, you pretend to adjust your posture on his lap, grinding up against his tightly constrained cock as you do and trying to ignore the growing wetness between your legs to be in such close proximity to his heat.

Then, fingers dipping into the tumbler, you pinch an ice cube between thumb and index, the faintest hint of liquor on your tongue as you suck it in and out of your mouth, waiting patiently for the cracks to appear in the wall of his composed demeanour.

Victor watches, entranced by the glisten of crimson-lacquered lips before he forces back a gasp to feel cold tempered by heat — the ice between your lips travelling over the bob of his Adam’s apple until tiny rivulets run between solid pecs, tracing the valleys of his defined torso and dripping to dampen leopard-print fabric, making the man throw his head back in a shudder even as that formidable length twitched within tight confines.

And when your mouth clamps over his nipple, it hardens immediately on the cool tip of your tongue before that, too, flicks to further stoke the fire spreading from his groin.

“Hmm.” Victor’s soft chuckle merges with your reverie, drawing your attention back to the steady rhythm of his breath over the phone. The laughter is smoky…smug, as if he already knew you had a finger buried up to the knuckle between your thighs, exploring slick velvet — infuriating as he proved, once again, that his intuition extended beyond matters of business.

“If you were here..."

A pause, and in your mind’s eye, Victor’s long, tapered fingers are grazing the outline of his bulge, each languid stroke leaving him larger and harder until he finally submits to pleasure and frees himself. Perhaps one hand would reach low, cup and gently massage the balls you loved to suck into your mouth. Or maybe his thumb would rub about the head, smearing the beginnings of liquid arousal in slow, slick circles — Victor biting his lip to imagine your tongue teasing beneath that sensitive ridge instead of his forefinger.   
  
“Yes?” You encourage in a breathy whisper, no longer concerned with the desperation in your tone as imagination tucked you snug between Victor’s legs, palms on his thighs and rug beneath your knees, looking up into eyes set on devouring you whole.

Dropping kisses on skin stretched taut over solid muscle, you inch your face towards that intimidating erection, nose nuzzling against his groin to catch the primal scent that never failed to make you throb. Peeking your tongue out to swirl about the head of his cock before it disappears past eager lips, Victor holds your gaze all the while — admiring the flush on your face, the hollow of your cheeks…the copious way in which your mouth watered to coat him, hands gliding along the length of his shaft to coax guttural moans from his throat.

And when his fingers stroke affectionately through your hair as he spills hot across your outstretched tongue, the way “good girl” tumbles from his lips has you feeling more ecstatic than you would ever care to admit.

“If you were here, you could tell me how it feels…”

Holding your breath at the sound of his voice, you readjust the phone at your ear, free hand slipping an additional finger past your entrance. You wondered if Victor could hear the wet sounds of you pleasuring yourself.

“….to finally hand in a report that meets my expectations. It's getting late. Get a good night's sleep and I’ll see you in my office at 8 am sharp tomorrow.”

_Click._

Fucking Victor Li.


End file.
